


Mischief

by suzteel



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Gen, Halloween
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:48:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22725670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suzteel/pseuds/suzteel
Summary: Michael and Max do a little late night pranking. Originally written for RIP Roswell 2019.
Relationships: Max Evans & Michael Guerin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Mischief

It was nearing midnight as Michael and Max made their way quietly down the street on their way to the Valenti house. It sat empty, quiet and still, since Mrs. Valenti was out of town on business and the Sheriff was on duty, doing the rounds, looking out for teenagers doing—well, exactly what the two of them were about to do. 

Michael had been tempted to tip the sheriff off to where his own son’s whereabouts were tonight, rumor being that Kyle and his buddies planned to teepee Principal Donovan’s house. But Principal Donovan was a racist piece of shit and Michael was looking forward to seeing his dour, pinched face all grumpy and vexed tomorrow. Besides, it meant that he and Max could enact their own brand of karmic revenge tonight. 

He glanced over to Max as they approached the house, gauging his temperature and resolve. It had taken him some convincing to agree to Michael’s plan. He had finally caved when he realized that short of getting Michael arrested, he wasn’t going to be able to stop him from going to go through with this anyway. So Max was here to keep Michael from doing something really stupid, like getting caught. 

Also because it was Kyle Valenti. 

Michael banked quite a bit on Max’s dislike of Kyle when planning tonight, even going so far as to making the Crashdown their meeting place at a time when he knew Kyle would be there to see Liz. And while Michael was sure Max saw right through that little maneuver, it seemed to have worked because while Max’s shoulders were tense and his hands fidgeting nervously, he also didn’t look like he was about to bail on him. 

“Dude, relax. Before someone thinks we’re up to something,” Michael said as quickly scoped out the street. 

“We are up to something. It’s called breaking and entering.” 

“Technically we aren’t going to be breaking or entering anything, if all goes to plan.”

“We shouldn’t be taking dumb risks like this, Michael. What if someone sees you?” Now he looked like he might be ready to bail. 

“That’s why you’re here, Max. Just keep watch. Five minutes, in and out. Just think about Kyle’s face when he comes home from egging Principal Donovan’s house and sees this.” As he hoped, reminding him that Kyle was up to his own mischief tonight got Max moving again. 

Checking the street one last time, Michael swiftly went to the side fence and scaled it, landing with a soft thud on the other side. Previous reconnaissance informed him that Kyle’s bedroom was conveniently one of the rooms with doors leading out to the back patio. He was at the door, dropping his backpack beside it, and focused on unlocking it with his mind before Max even made it over himself. 

As Max dropped into the yard, Michael heard the click of the lock and opened the door, taking a half-step inside to survey the room. It was disappointingly typical of a teenaged human male, not all that different from Max’s except messier and with less books and more trophies. The bedsheets were even a simple blue–no childhood printed holdouts there to store away for future use. 

Michael was tempted to do some snooping, but Max was already stepping up behind him to look inside. “Will it fit?” 

Michael sized up in the what-looked-to-be a queen-sized bed and surveyed the door. “I think so. Go stand watch,” he said before getting to work. Lifting the bed using his powers was relatively easy, but keeping the frame and mattress together while he turned it on its side to get out the door required much more concentration. He ignored the pillows and duvet slipping off as he maneuvered the bed through the door, careful not to bang it against the doorframe and _actually_ break something. He wanted to leave as little evidence behind as possible. 

He set the bed down gently back on its legs outside, then levitated the duvet and pillows onto it, messier than before, but neat enough. Levitating the whole arrangement onto the roof was the easiest part of the whole operation. It teetered slightly when he first set it down, but a couple of minute pushes and it steadied in place. 

“Dude, I think someone’s coming. Hurry up!” Max hissed suddenly from the darkness near the fence. Adrenaline spiked through Michael’s veins, lighting up nerve endings and bringing a grin to his lips as he replied, “Just one last touch,” and reached for his backpack, pulling out the monstrosity inside. It was a large green plastic pumpkin that he had stolen earlier that month from one of the many tourist trap shops that littered Roswell. It was “carved” with aliens and UFOs and lit via a battery operated light, which he switched on before levitating it up to sit predominantly on the bed, it’s low light glowing sickly green in the darkness. 

“Seriously, Michael, we have to go. Someone’s coming!” Max was pulling at his arm as car headlights turned toward the front of the house. Michael quickly shut and relocked the patio door from the inside and off they went–racing into the darkness and away from the house as quickly as their legs could carry them, hearts pounding so hard in their chests, Michael swore he could hear Max’s heart beating right beside his own. 

They slowed to a walk once they were a safe distance away, moving back into the street and doing their best to slow their breathing and look inconspicuous. But Michael’s blood was still racing, energy still coursing through him, and when they reached Max’s jeep, it burst out of him in stupefied laughter. “I wish we could see his face!” 

“That was so stupid,” Max replied, but he was grinning, smug satisfaction pouring out of him. Michael knew he was picturing Kyle’s baffled expression when he sees where his bed ended up, and his suspicion and confusion tomorrow at school, wondering who did it and how. 

It was going to be a good Halloween this year.


End file.
